Lucius Malfoy & Bellatrix Lestrange: The Deadly Alliance
by Mr. Cobrah Thunderer
Summary: Back in the day, they formed an unstoppable duo. However, things have changed. The Dark Lord is dead. His two most faithful servants are now left behind to pick up the pieces of their master's legacy. Their partnership was always an uneasy one, but with the war lost, The Death Eaters confused and disorganized, and Voldemort's throne empty, The Deadly Alliance is no more.


Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock.

It had been a full month since The Dark Lord had fallen, and Lucius Malfoy still was not sure how to react to the news. It was in the dining room of Malfoy Manor where he had chosen to sit himself down, hunched over with his chair facing the roaring fireplace in front of him. His back now faced the long table where he usually entertained and wheedled information from only the very best of high society. The fingers of his left hand were intently tapping on the arms of his chair, while his right hand unconsciously stroked his chin.

The first thought of something other than his safety in the ensuing chaos since his master's death occurred that evening.

 _I could really go for a shave right about now._

Without even rising, Lucius lazily pawed for his staff with his left hand, which was leaning dangerously on the edge of the armrest, retracted his wand, and pointed it to his right like a conductor.

" _Accio Narcissa's Mirror._ "

Within the next eight seconds it was soaring towards his location all the way from the master bedroom and he caught it unenthusiastically. It was then Lucius caught the first good look of himself he had seen in quite some time. There were still traces of handsomeness and that old smirk in his face, but they were obscured by shadows under the eyes, an even paler complexion than usual, and scratchy stubble all over his face. But none of those things were what made Lucius close his eyes and shake his head in disgust at himself, it was what had happened to his hair.

His formally smooth and billowing blonde hair was now all dirty and mangled thanks to four weeks straight of ignoring it in favor of planning out strategy. If there was one thing Lucius was able to pride something in his appearance if not for anything else, it was his hair. Abraxas Malfoy, his father, had never approved of his son's haircut and never missed a chance to remind him of this fact that every day he looked more like those "Jobless, funny-smelling, soft-hearted Muggles."

Lucius gave little heed to his Father's criticisms despite the fact that for a brief period he had worshipped the ground his Father had stood on up until the age of fourteen. Narcissa preferred her men (and future husbands, for that matter) with a long, full head of hair that matched if not surpassed any fair maiden, and that was that. As far as Lucius was concerned, Abraxas was good for only two things nowadays, his legacy of continuing the proud Malfoy name, his inherited fortune, and keeping the Healers at the retirement community occupied.

Not that he _hated_ his Father per se. After all, his teachings instilled in Lucius before and during Hogwarts and his vast library of societal connections continued to aid him throughout any and all of his life experiences, it was just that they had never been very close. Those kinds of things tended to happen when Abraxas spent all of his time at the office only to return home to his far younger girlfriend/future ex-wife, only taking the time to either nod in approval at his son's accomplishments or chastise him endlessly for his failures. Despite all of his successes, he was such an ugly man...why would Lucius ever want to look like that? He'd much rather look like his Mother, gorgeous and undeniably stylish, someone truly deserving of admiration beyond the size of one's bank account.

But with everything else going on in his life, now was most certainly not the time to dwell on the past, and he resolved to banish such thoughts from his head ad nauseum. Continuing to shudder at his haggard appearance, Lucius snapped his fingers and all of the sudden his House-Elf popped out of nowhere, wringing his hands and looking up at his master expectantly.

"I am drawing myself a bath, Dobby. Afterwards, I feel a good shave and haircut would be appropriate. We have to look good for Mistress Narcissa, don't we?"

Giving his dirty old pillowcase a quick look-over, Dobby sighed feebly and receited;

"Of course, Master. First appearances are everything. Master surely must be trapped in time to still look so young after all these years."

"I do still have it, don't I?" Lucius smirked, oblivious to The House-Elf's forced flattery. Viewing his wicked smile through the mirror, some of his old confidence was finally coming back to him. _There he is! There's where that clever devil was hiding. Moping is for Mudbloods and Whining Is For Weasleys!_ he thought proudly to himself.

The old Lucius Malfoy was back.


End file.
